


The Taste of Seafoam on Your Skin

by Kisleth



Series: Lights on the Water [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Nautical, Blowjobs, Deep-Sea Fishing, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Lighthouses, M/M, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisleth/pseuds/Kisleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deep-sea fishing/lighthouse AU. Phil comes home to Clint packing a picnic lunch for them to have a little date at a swimming hole Clint found. Lunch gets waylaid for swimming and swimming gets waylaid for something else.</p><p>Neither of them much cares about their forgotten meal for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taste of Seafoam on Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I was editing some pretty mediocre porn. I just had to get everything out, everything that I could do so much better. And so here it is.
> 
> Thank you, BonitaBreezy and ParkerStark for the betas.

It's an unseasonably warm May afternoon when Phil shows up on Clint's doorstep. He'd stayed up late into the night so he'd be in port for as early as he could to sell all his fish, but his energy had failed him and he succumbed to a nap off the Nova Scotian shores. He's disappointed that he hasn't been able to make it back to Clint's to share their bed. (He frowns at himself for still thinking of it as mostly Clint's home when he actually lives there too. It's taking some getting used to, more than he'd thought. But he has lived on his own for so long that it does make sense.)

Clint's awake and puttering around the kitchen when Phil walks in. A gorgeous smile brightens up his lover's features when he lays his eyes on Phil. For a moment, nothing and no one moves. A blink later, Clint has twined his arms around Phil's neck and is kissing him breathless.

"Hey," Clint murmurs, panting slightly as he presses his forehead against Phil's.

"Hello." Happiness to be home almost chokes him up. He's never been so glad to be on shore like this in all his life. "Miss me?"

"Is that even a question?" Clint laughs and leads him over to sit at the kitchen table so he can finish what he was doing. Phil peers into the basket to spy baby carrots in baggies and tiny raisin boxes. Clint himself is making sandwiches.

"What's all this?"

Clint grins over his shoulder. "A late picnic lunch?" He tries to look innocent. "I found a spot where we could have a private picnic and swim. There's this cave with a pool inside deep enough to swim, the water is already warm."

"Is this a date?" Phil asks, reaching out to snag Clint's back pocket. He smiles when the younger man lets him drag him backwards and onto Phil's lap. He wraps his arm around Clint's waist and uses his free hand to tip his face in for another, slower kiss. His Keep hums against his mouth in lazy affection.

"Do I have to ask you for it to be a date? Seeing as we're dating, I'd think it'd be a given." Phil laughs softly at Clint’s words and can't resist kissing him again. He's somehow missed this man more than he usually did, ever since he told him he loved him. He even feels the words bubbling up now to be said, but when he meets Clint's eyes, he stops. Clint had said he wanted to be the first to say it in person. He'll let him do it, and in his own time, too.

"You're right. Anything I can do to help?" Clint hums thoughtfully before telling him to pick whatever he would like to drink from the fridge and any other snacks he wanted.

"Where's the fluffball?" Clint asks after he's packed up the sandwiches next to the bottles of water Phil had placed in the basket. He hadn’t seen him on Phil’s shoulder when the older man came in.

“Asleep on my pillow when I saw him last. He’ll wreck less havoc in there than in the house alone. We’ll bring him in when we get back.” He takes the basket when Clint latches the lid down. Clint grabs their coats and follows him out to his bike. It may be warmer out, but it won’t be that much warmer when they’re on the bike. He ties the basket down and puts his jacket on (with a bit of gentlemanly help from Clint who lingers to stroke his hands over his shoulders). He shoves his own helmet on and settles on the bike behind Clint, his hands tucked under the edge of Clint’s jacket to splay over his hips.

“Comfortable?” Clint asks, strapping his helmet under his chin. The visor is up so he’s easier to hear, but it’s a little hard to see his smirk.

Phil squeezes his hips and grins, the warm skin under his hands was a feeling he’d definitely missed. Clint squirms a little and Phil knows it’s because he’s ticklish just a little higher up. He can feel goosebumps starting to blossom under his fingers. “As I’ll ever be.”

Clint nods his head sharply, the visor falling down with a snap. Phil taps the forehead of his helmet lightly against the back of Clint’s, grinning as the younger man taps back just as careful. He starts the bike and revs the engine, making it purr under them both. Between the rumble of the bike and the close proximity of Clint’s ass to Phil’s crotch, his dick gives an interested twitch. Phil’s glad Clint can’t see his face heat up as they ride away and down the road.

* * *

Clint leans the bike against the entrance of the cave as the ground is too soft for the kickstand to do much. Phil pulls the blanket out of the basket and spreads it over the ground for them to sit on and keep the sand from getting into their food. He takes the sandwiches and other food items out when Clint suggests that they swim first, while the tide is right and the water is warm. There are two lanterns in the basket too, as the sun doesn’t quite light up the cave very well. He turns them both on and places them on flat rocks near the water to light up the space.

Phil rifles through the almost empty basket to see what is in the very bottom. “Uh, Clint?” He glances over to where his lover is stripping his shirt off. He has to stop and watch the younger man’s back muscles roll and shift under his skin for a moment. Subconsciously, he licks his lips when Clint half-turns toward him and gives him a lovely side view. “Swimming trunks?”

Clint grins wickedly and an electric jolt races from where it squeezes Phil’s heart down into the front of his jeans. “It’s a private area, so I didn’t pack any.” He turns back away and hooks his thumbs into his waistband as he kicks off his shoes. Shoving his jeans down, he catches and tugs his socks off and gives Phil a lovely view of his ass. Of course Clint doesn’t wear underwear.

Phil swallows, unable to move. He’s completely transfixed as Clint wades into the water and his face feels hot enough to burn. He watches the flex, glide, and bunch of muscles in his lover’s thighs and butt as the water rises up to cover them. A small sound escapes his voice at the loss. The younger man turns to him and smirks. “Well…?”

He jumps up from the blanket and shucks his jacket and then shirt with a hurried, yet dignified, grace. Habit has him halfway through folding his shirt before he tosses it down and starts yanking at the belt around his hips. He kicks his shoes off so violently that one flies into the water. Laughter makes him pause and he looks up from shoving his pants off, shoes and socks and all, to see Clint covering his mouth to smother a grin. The water barely covers his cock and the hair trailing down his lower belly is darker now that it’s wet and drawing his eyes down to it.

Recovering his grace, Phil shucks the rest of his clothes off and strides into the cool water with purpose. Clint doesn’t move closer, but he does watch him, his pupils dilating until there is more black than blue-grey. The lantern light is warm and turns Clint’s skin more honey golden than it manages to be during the winter months. He stops in front of Clint and slides his hands through the water to his thighs.

Clint shivers under his warm hands and the little trembles continue as Phil drags his hands up Clint’s sides. There is just enough space between them that the only point of contact is Phil’s hands on him. Clint drags wet fingers up along Phil’s arms, painting invisible lines and swirls up to his elbows. He grips Phil’s arms and then jerks himself backwards and Phil’s eyes fly open as he falls into the water on top of Clint. He barely manages to take a breath before he’s submerged.

It’s hard to see under the water, but he swims after Clint, snatching his ankle as it passes and tugging. Clint kicks carefully and pulls away, but swims up to him and crashes their lips together. Warm hands grip the back of his neck and Clint seals their mouths together so tightly that they can open together and not be filled with saltwater. He groans into Clint’s mouth and slides his tongue over the intruding one, the sound getting lost into the water around them. He grasps Clint’s hips again and tugs him flush even as they sink.

The air isn’t too high above them and the sand is actually comfortable against his back. Of course, he doesn’t even notice any of this. His entire focus is of the hot press of Clint’s body in contrast to the cool water around them. They can’t last long under the water and soon enough the have to push up to the surface, but it’s not before they’re both half-hard and rocking against each other.

Clint gulps breath, his forehead pressed to Phil’s and his hands tightly gripping his biceps. Phil likes that the younger man refuses to let him go. “Blanket?” He asks, his breath hot against Phil’s face. He just nods and drags Clint out of the water by the waist. He couldn’t care less that their swim lasted hardly a minute.

Together they fumble to stuff all the food back into the basket and move it off the blanket so they have the whole thing to themselves. Clint pushes Phil onto his back and stretches out above him. The air is a bit chilly as it dries the water from their bodies, but they quickly remedy that by rocking against each other once more.

Phil kisses and licks the salt from Clint’s mouth, his jaw, his neck. He bites at his jugular, raising a moan from the man’s throat. Clint writhes on top of him and it drags and presses their cocks together. Phil grunts and rolls, getting on top and pulling back enough to fist Clint’s erection and stroke him. Clint’s back arches off the blanket and his hands roam Phil wildly, gripping his neck to hold Phil where he nips and licks for only a second before they go elsewhere.

Clint hisses an invective before he spreads his legs to wrap around Phil’s waist. He bucks eagerly into Phil’s hand and Phil has to pull back so he can watch the ecstasy on the blond man’s face. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. Clint’s cock jerks in his hand and Phil grins. His own hardness is pressed into the crease of Clint’s thigh and his balls, warm and snug and a bit slick from precome.

“Holy hell,” Clint’s voice is breathy. He blinks up at Phil and gives him a filthy grin. “What’s a guy gotta do to get you to talk dirty?” Phil can feel his face and neck burn in embarrassment. He’s not very talkative during sex. Clint watches him almost expectantly and after a minute of just staring at each other while Phil’s hand still on Clint’s cock but motionless, Clint moves.

He pushes Phil back and he releases his grip on Clint as the younger man releases the grip of his legs. He’s a little crestfallen and his erection flags. That is, until Clint continues to push until Phil is laying down on the blanket. The sand is so close to his face that he can smell it. “I—”

“I’ll just have to try something and find out.” Clint’s mouth curls wickedly and he shifts backwards and down. A hot, wet tongue laps at the head of Phil’s cock. He twitches and can feel his dick try to get back into the action after his uncertainty worried him soft. Clint does it again and Phil squeaks as he tries to breathe with a tightening throat.

Clint looks up at Phil and the lantern light makes his eyes glow in the semi-darkness. He strokes the flat of his tongue from tip to base, his nose dragging through wet curls. His kisses up over the faint swell of Phil’s belly, something he hasn’t been able to keep away despite his job. He kisses over water-chilled skin, his breath and mouth hot and soothing even as it works him up.

“Clint,” he starts, but Clint ducks back down. His cock has risen, thickened from the rush of blood going south. Clint looks very pleased with himself and before Phil can say anything else, Clint wraps his lips around the head. Phil’s head falls back to the blanket, he doesn’t remember lifting it in the first place. He tips his head back more, feeling the sand move under the blanket behind him.

Cooled skin from the water just makes Clint’s mouth feel that much hotter. He melts into the blanket and listens to his panting breaths as they echo back to him. Clint wraps his hand around the base and strokes him slowly while he continues to suckle at the sensitive head. Phil gasps and rocks his hips up into Clint’s mouth. “S-sorry!”

The younger man arches an eyebrow and just sucks harder, pressing his tongue into the slit. The hot drag of the point of Clint’s tongue pressing in makes Phil cry out. Clint teases him with fast and light flicks of his tongue. Phil wraps his leg around Clint’s back and tugs him a little closer. He doesn’t want him to stop but also can’t find the words to actually say it.

When Clint pulls back, an unflattering whine escapes Phil’s throat in protest. He looks down to meet Clint’s gaze and pleads with his eyes. The resulting smirk sends a jolt of pleasure up his spine and his cock flexes in Clint’s grip. “Am I so good you can’t use words?” He is radiating smug and Phil just lets his head fall back to the ground with a tortured groan.

Clint seems to be waiting him out and Phil gives in when it’s clear that he won’t be doing anything to him until Phil responds. “Never been much a one to talk.” Clint squeezes the base of his cock and laps at the precome that beads at the tip. He jerks his head up to watch his tongue dart between swollen, red lips and he doesn’t even try to muffle the loud groan that rumbles out of him.

“Well,” Clint delicately scrapes his teeth under the glans and Phil writhes, whimpering. “I’ll have to be vocal for both of us.” He surges up and seals his mouth over Phil’s. Opening his mouth in surrender, Clint slides his tongue in. The taste of himself and the different salt from the water, explode over his tongue. It nearly drowns out the taste of Clint but Phil eagerly licks into the other’s mouth to find it. Clint moans and reflexively squeezes Phil’s length, dragging a moan out of him as well.

‘Please’ clings to Phil’s tongue and he can’t force it out, but he manages to rock his hips up desperately into Clint’s hand. Clint breaks the kiss and nips and kisses along Phil’s jaw. He shifts above him and rests his weight on his free arm over Phil’s head. His lower lip catches on Phil’s ear as he raises his mouth to whisper, “so easy to please, Loner.” His voice is low and rough and makes Phil shiver. “Just starting to learn your body and you act as though we’ve been doing this for years.”

Phil tightens his leg around Clint sharply, making the man rut against him. Clint groans and starts to rock his hips in time with the rhythm Phil starts. “Knowing our track record, I thought it’d be a lot more awkward and clumsy,” Clint confesses. He tucks his face into Phil’s neck and laves his tongue over the soft skin below his ear. They had learned each other, somewhat, over the hours and hours of kissing on the couch or in bed or a few memorable times in the watchroom, shoved against one of the windows.

His free leg wraps around Clint’s middle and locks his ankles together. It gives him the leverage to thrust harder against Clint. He muffles himself only somewhat successfully against the man’s muscular shoulder, bracing his teeth lightly around the trapezius muscle that ran from neck to shoulder. Clint breathes heavily in his ear. “Harder, Loner.” Phil obliges and is rewarded with a breathy moan. “So glad… not clumsy…”

A rough chuckle escapes Phil and Clint echoes it, a grin curling the corners of his mouth. The easy laughter continues up until Clint adjusts his grip on Phil’s erection. He slides his palm over the leaking head, spreading slick and gripping him again. He keeps his hand focused on the sensitive head and Phil drags his teeth over his mouthful of skin. “Do that again,” Clint whispers, his voice tight as he rocks against Phil. The crease of his thigh has become slick from sweat and precome, making it easier for Clint to thrust against him. “C’mon, bite me.”

Phil does and the resulting moan is worth it. It’s rough and desperate and heat builds low in Phil’s stomach over it. “Like that?” He manages to say, although it ends higher than he’d like because Clint with rubbing his thumb along the edge of his glans.  Clint sucks on the skin of Phil’s neck and he writhes a little. One hand snaps up to fist in Clint’s hair and hold him right there. Clint pulls back despite the slight pain with a pop and chuckles.

“It’s ‘bout time you get handsy back.” Clint teases, licking down to his collarbone. “Making me do all the wo—” Clint gasps as Phil’s other hand wraps firmly around his erection. He rests his head against Phil’s collarbone and he shivers at the hot, moist breath that clouds and rolls against his pec and over a peaked nipple. He strokes Clint slowly, mimicking the very same movement over his own length. Clint tries to speak but it’s a garbled rush of nonsensical syllables. Finally he whines, “ _Phil_.”

Phil hums and continues to keep his pace even as he rocks his hips up to thrust into Clint’s fist. “Phil, please, faster.” Phil doesn’t go faster. He’ll only stroke Clint as fast and Clint strokes him. He doesn’t even tell him, just smiles and continues on. Clint squeezes and twists his hand over the head and Phil’s hand actually goes slack before he can reciprocate and he cries out. He regains his grip and strokes Clint as he tightens his hand in Clint’s hair. Plush lips kiss down his chest and he tongues at his left nipple.

Phil whimpers and arches up into his, pushing Clint’s face against his chest in a bid for more. Clint rubs his stubble-roughened cheek over the wet skin and the rasp of it against skin and chest hair is almost as erotic as Clint moaning. “Stroke me?” Clint asks innocently, “stroke me faster, Phil? I want you to make me scream.” Phil clamps his legs around him hard but doesn’t go faster. If Clint keeps this up, he might just come from the man’s voice.

Phil looks down to meet Clint’s gaze just as teeth clamp around his nipple. He shouts and jerks and precome slicks Clint’s fingers where he grasps him. “Like that, mm?” He nips over to the right nipple and swirls his tongue around it slowly. Phil’s ragged breathing muffles as he curls in on himself, pressing his lips to the crown of Clint’s head. He bucks up into Clint’s hand and finally he takes the hint and speeds up. Phil picks up his pace too, twisting his wrist every time he drags up. Clint moans against his chest, but the noise from Phil’s own throat drowns him out.

Clint looks up at him and their eyes lock. Clint tightens his grip and Phil echoes it. “So that’s how it is.” Clint bites his bottom lip, his pupils wide and dark. He quickly sets a brutal pace which has Phil sobbing and keening and struggling with coherency so he can reciprocate properly. “Phil,” Clint moans, “oh, Phil, you’re gorgeous.” He nips at Phil’s sternum, wresting another cry from Phil. “I could watch you like this for hours.”

Clint’s thighs slap against Phil’s as he thrusts up into the older man’s fist. It stings but Phil grows to like it, just as he’s liking the slight burn of sand digging into his back through the blanket. He’s slowly moving upward from the force of Clint’s thrusts. It’s all he can do to just keep his hand in place and let Clint fuck into it.

“Can’t wait…” He nips up Phil’s neck and his jaw, his teeth close around Phil’s lower lip and tugs carefully. “Can’t wait to watch you come.” His voice is like silk, stroking over him. Phil shudders and moans, the sound breaking as his body tenses. He feels afire and Clint’s words choke him like smoke. His jaw works as he tries to speak but he can’t properly draw air. The line of his body is so tense, arched up into Clint, that he shakes with it. Electricity rockets up his spine and he can feel the tug of his balls drawing up. “You gonna?” Clint murmurs into his mouth. “I want you to.” Phil’s eyes slip shut and he pumps his tightening fist hard around Clint, making him lose track of what he’s saying for a moment.

Clint kisses him fiercely and growls against his mouth. “Do it, Phil.” Their hips are rocking wildly and his knuckles are sore where they bump against Clint’s as one strokes up and the other down, their rhythm ruined by frantic need. “Come.” Clint’s voice is sharp, urgent. “Now. C’mon—”

Phil screams, his body clenching and moving Clint with the force of it. He nearly bucks Clint off of him, except for his grip on him. He shoots up their chests, coming dangerously close to hitting himself in the chin. Clint swears, gasping. “Fuck, gorgeous, fuck, fuck, fuck. Lookit you, fuck…” and Phil is forcing his noodly arm to continue stroking him. He releases Clint’s hair and lowers his other hand, sliding it through the mess on his chest and belly. It makes Clint swear louder and prop himself up off him to watch. Both hands wrap around Clint’s cock, the slicker one jacking him fast as the other goes from teasing his liberally leaking head to tug and fondle his balls.

Clint tries to say something but it comes out as a squeak and Phil hopes he’s close because his arms are starting to burn. His mouth is slack as he watches the enraptured ecstasy on Clint’s face as he thrusts into Phil’s hands. Grey-blue eyes open and lock onto Phil’s for a second. He finds his voice and asks Clint with just one word. “Please?”

He’s never seen someone more beautiful while losing themselves. Clint falls to pieces but manages not to collapse on top of Phil. He tucks his face into Phil’s neck and the older man returns the favor as Clint comes over the mess Phil had made. His body trembles as he eases down on top of lover, and Phil wraps his arms around him as Clint noses along his jaw and cheek. They kiss when Clint’s mouth clumsily finds Phil’s and he melts into Clint’s embrace.

Their movements are languid and sweet and eventually Clint rolls to the side, not caring that he’s half on the blanket and half in the sand. He grins at Phil and drags his fingers through the sticky mess on Phil’s front. “So,” the grin is lopsided and very endearing, “this enough incentive for ya to stay home with me forever?”

Phil catches Clint’s wrist and raises his hand to lick their mixed come off of his fingers. “Not quite.” Clint groans and rolls onto his back, throwing his free arm out to the side.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Phil just hums and watches Clint catch his breath. Over the sound of their slowing breaths, they can hear the waves. Phil looks up and sees that the water is closer. He pushes himself up slowly and Clint makes a noise of protest. “Where you goin’, good looking?”

He laughs and shakes his head. He folds the blanket away from the slowly encroaching water and wades out into it, intent on cleaning the mess off of himself. Clint joins him after a minute and they both just float around in the deeper water. They don’t stray far from each other, and periodically they bump shoulders and turn to share a kiss.

Clint gets out first and Phil watches, enjoying the view as he did when Clint first entered the water. He traces droplets that run down his back and butt and legs with his eyes until Clint grabs a towel and dries himself off. He picks up the second one and holds it up for Phil. With a smile, he steps out of the water. He wraps his arms around Clint in a hug as Clint pats him dry, smiling right back.

Phil lets Clint dry him off and dress him. It almost feels more intimate than what had already passed between them. He picks up Clint’s jeans and carefully holds them out so he can step into them. Of course he would return the favor. The soft look he gets is well worth it. The basket of food gets repacked and their jackets are fed through the handle loops. Clint carries their footwear and Phil has the basket. The blanket is wrapped around their shoulder and their free arms slip around each other’s waists.

Wordlessly, they cross the beach to a likely place to spread the blanket to sit and eat. They press close and each their sandwiches, feeding each other the smaller, bite-sized snacks they’d brought. The sun is already dragging lower in the sky and starting to turn its colors by the time they’ve finished. They still haven’t moved from the blanket, tucking the edges around themselves as they sit on it.

Clint rests his head on Phil’s shoulder. His hair is spiky and stiff from the saltwater but it doesn’t do much more than tickle. He tips his head to rest on Clint’s and can feel the hum through his cheek more than hear it. He almost dozes off right then and there but after a while, Clint shifts. He stirs and sits up, tightening his arm around Clint’s waist. “Phil?”

This time Phil hums and he blinks sleepily at Clint. He closes his eyes when soft, warm lips press against his. He cups Clint’s neck and holds him there for a few seconds, sinking into the warmth of Clint. “Mm, yeah?” He murmurs against his lips

Clint smiles soft and sweet, pulling back. Phil blinks and regains his focus and it seems as though Clint was waiting for him to do as such. He waits as Clint hesitates, his mouth partially open and it takes a few seconds before it sinks in and clicks and he _knows_ what Clint is about to say. He waits patiently, a probably (definitely) lovesick smile on his face.

His smile must have eased Clint’s worries because a tenseness to his frame leaves and his eyes soften. “I love you.” Phil lets the words hang in the air and sink into him before he surges forward and kisses him soundly.

“Thank you,” he whispers when he pulls back. Clint’s been pushed into the sand and they’re both going to have to take a thorough shower when they get home to clean off all the grit.

The shocked look at being thanked makes Phil hesitate. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, people usually don’t thank others for loving them, do they? Before he can worry and then bury that worry deep, Clint laughs and wraps his arms around Phil’s neck.

“Thank you,” he replies, leaning up to kiss him again. Phil could hear the overwhelming gratitude in his voice and maybe ‘thank you’ had been something Clint wanted to say, but he hadn’t wanted it misconstrued over the radio.

Neither of them brush it off with ‘no need’s or ‘your welcome’s. They had meant each _I love you_ and each _thank you_ and it worked for them.

Despite their intentions, they stayed kissing in the sand until the sky grew dark.

 


End file.
